Portugal v Germany
Title : Portugal v Germany (First Quarterfinal)
Author: dalehead
Pairing : Orlibean
Rating : NC-18
Summary : Football … and talk of sex!
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up
Author’s Note : For tati - this is the twenty fifth Euro fic and still counting *g*
For once Orlando and Sean are both in agreement. They both want Portugal to win. They both want to watch the match. They both want to watch every single minute of it.
As the Portuguese National Anthem is sung, Sean reaches for Orlando’s hand and raises it to his lips, kissing it gently.
Germany are playing well. They can both see that. Then in the twenty second minute?
Schweinsteiger scores…
“We could watch Come Dine With Me?” Orlando is only half joking.
Sean doesn’t bother to answer, merely rolls his eyes.
He is engrossed in the match, lips moving in a silent commentary. He snorts from time to time and Orlando watches his lover rather than the action on the screen.
Around the twenty fifth minute, it all gets a bit much for Sean and he’s on his feet.
“No … no … no … nooooooooooo”
Bastian Schweinsteiger delivers the free-kick to the far post where Miroslav Klose loses his marker and heads in.
“Bollocks!”
Sean sighs. “They’re playing brilliantly but …” he remembers too many semi finals where that brilliance has been turned on their own lads. “But fair play to them,” he is scowling.
The minutes tick by and Sean is beginning to jig around a bit.
“I wanna go out there ‘Lan … why aren’t we there?”
They were offered tickets but in a fit of pique, Sean refused them. Orlando had warned him he’d regret it but he was indulging in a bout of Delhi Belly at the time and was in no state to consider great opportunities.
Orlando says nothing, but the smallest, the merest suggestion of a smile plays around his lips..
Just before half time, Deco wins the ball on the edge of his own area and plays it to Simao, who slides the pass through for Cristiano Ronaldo. Jens Lehmann does well to save Ronaldo's low effort but the ball comes out to Nuno Gomes, whose shot squeezes in despite Christoph Metzelder's attempt to block on the line.
This time they are both up on their feet and screaming!
“Fucking twat …” Bastian Schweinsteiger delivers the deadly free-kick from the left and Michael Ballack beats Paulo Ferriera to head home - as keeper Ricardo is caught in no-man's land and let’s be honest. It’s done. It’s over and Sean is in a black, black mood.
“Calm down,” Orlando remembers 2004 as well but it isn’t burnt onto his consciousness like it is for Sean.
“I am calm,” replies his lover hoarsely.
Clearly Sean is really upset and Orlando knows this is all part of the tournament for his lover. He takes is so seriously. Some men would have ripped their lovers a new one at the sight of such a crumpled and upset face but Orlando is used to this. It matters to Sean and having a pop at him will achieve nothing.
He leaves him be.
And then … oh god … it’s like being mocked.
Some Portugal-style defending from Germany as Helder Postiga is left unmarked to head home Nani's cross from the left. Portugal have three minutes plus injury time to salvage an unlikely draw.
It’s not gonna happen but Sean is once more jumping up and down, screaming obscenities that make Orlando giggle. Lij thinks he should gag Sean for an entire match but Lij is a cold hearted bastard sometimes, though maybe Orlando will tease Sean and suggest it, but he looks at his beautiful lover and he knows he won’t. There are more ways than one of skinning a cat and he …
The TV is shut off.
Sean is furious.
“Bastards…”
He goes to throw the remote at the wall and stops.
Orlando says nothing. Just looks.
Like a stone, Sean drops. He looks at Orlando for a long, long moment. His eyes spark then slowly he kneels. Nodding, his Master walks quietly out of the room, leaving the boy to find his centre. He looks his array of whips, paddles and floggers, decides what he needs and walks back into the room.
Sean is naked. Gloriously and submissively naked. His cock is hard, his hands are behind his back and his eyes are down. He’s nearly there but not quite. He is still dwelling on the football, on what might happen, how it might all pan out. By the time this scene is finished, he will have forgotten who Michael Ballack is.
In his jean Orlando has a couple of clothes pegs; he pins one to each of Sean’s nipples. There, already the game is receding.
“You are a slut and a whore, boy.”
An answering moan tells Orlando his boy is in total agreement.
“You are begging to be hurt aren’t you, you want to take the pain I give you,” and another layer of Sean drops away, leaving Orlando with his perfect boy.
“Get yourself off.”
Sean doesn’t even blink, takes his cock in his hand and roughly fists it, just the way he knows pleases his Master. He shuts his eyes and when he feels Orlando’s hands around his throat, he makes the smallest noise of pleasure. By the time he is allowed his first breath he is thinking of nothing, of no one except Master.
Germany 3-2 Portugal
Author: dalehead
Pairing : Orlibean
Rating : NC-18
Summary : Football … and talk of sex!
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up
Author’s Note : For tati - this is the twenty fifth Euro fic and still counting *g*
For once Orlando and Sean are both in agreement. They both want Portugal to win. They both want to watch the match. They both want to watch every single minute of it.
As the Portuguese National Anthem is sung, Sean reaches for Orlando’s hand and raises it to his lips, kissing it gently.
Germany are playing well. They can both see that. Then in the twenty second minute?
Schweinsteiger scores…
“We could watch Come Dine With Me?” Orlando is only half joking.
Sean doesn’t bother to answer, merely rolls his eyes.
He is engrossed in the match, lips moving in a silent commentary. He snorts from time to time and Orlando watches his lover rather than the action on the screen.
Around the twenty fifth minute, it all gets a bit much for Sean and he’s on his feet.
“No … no … no … nooooooooooo”
Bastian Schweinsteiger delivers the free-kick to the far post where Miroslav Klose loses his marker and heads in.
“Bollocks!”
Sean sighs. “They’re playing brilliantly but …” he remembers too many semi finals where that brilliance has been turned on their own lads. “But fair play to them,” he is scowling.
The minutes tick by and Sean is beginning to jig around a bit.
“I wanna go out there ‘Lan … why aren’t we there?”
They were offered tickets but in a fit of pique, Sean refused them. Orlando had warned him he’d regret it but he was indulging in a bout of Delhi Belly at the time and was in no state to consider great opportunities.
Orlando says nothing, but the smallest, the merest suggestion of a smile plays around his lips..
Just before half time, Deco wins the ball on the edge of his own area and plays it to Simao, who slides the pass through for Cristiano Ronaldo. Jens Lehmann does well to save Ronaldo's low effort but the ball comes out to Nuno Gomes, whose shot squeezes in despite Christoph Metzelder's attempt to block on the line.
This time they are both up on their feet and screaming!
“Fucking twat …” Bastian Schweinsteiger delivers the deadly free-kick from the left and Michael Ballack beats Paulo Ferriera to head home - as keeper Ricardo is caught in no-man's land and let’s be honest. It’s done. It’s over and Sean is in a black, black mood.
“Calm down,” Orlando remembers 2004 as well but it isn’t burnt onto his consciousness like it is for Sean.
“I am calm,” replies his lover hoarsely.
Clearly Sean is really upset and Orlando knows this is all part of the tournament for his lover. He takes is so seriously. Some men would have ripped their lovers a new one at the sight of such a crumpled and upset face but Orlando is used to this. It matters to Sean and having a pop at him will achieve nothing.
He leaves him be.
And then … oh god … it’s like being mocked.
Some Portugal-style defending from Germany as Helder Postiga is left unmarked to head home Nani's cross from the left. Portugal have three minutes plus injury time to salvage an unlikely draw.
It’s not gonna happen but Sean is once more jumping up and down, screaming obscenities that make Orlando giggle. Lij thinks he should gag Sean for an entire match but Lij is a cold hearted bastard sometimes, though maybe Orlando will tease Sean and suggest it, but he looks at his beautiful lover and he knows he won’t. There are more ways than one of skinning a cat and he …
The TV is shut off.
Sean is furious.
“Bastards…”
He goes to throw the remote at the wall and stops.
Orlando says nothing. Just looks.
Like a stone, Sean drops. He looks at Orlando for a long, long moment. His eyes spark then slowly he kneels. Nodding, his Master walks quietly out of the room, leaving the boy to find his centre. He looks his array of whips, paddles and floggers, decides what he needs and walks back into the room.
Sean is naked. Gloriously and submissively naked. His cock is hard, his hands are behind his back and his eyes are down. He’s nearly there but not quite. He is still dwelling on the football, on what might happen, how it might all pan out. By the time this scene is finished, he will have forgotten who Michael Ballack is.
In his jean Orlando has a couple of clothes pegs; he pins one to each of Sean’s nipples. There, already the game is receding.
“You are a slut and a whore, boy.”
An answering moan tells Orlando his boy is in total agreement.
“You are begging to be hurt aren’t you, you want to take the pain I give you,” and another layer of Sean drops away, leaving Orlando with his perfect boy.
“Get yourself off.”
Sean doesn’t even blink, takes his cock in his hand and roughly fists it, just the way he knows pleases his Master. He shuts his eyes and when he feels Orlando’s hands around his throat, he makes the smallest noise of pleasure. By the time he is allowed his first breath he is thinking of nothing, of no one except Master.
Germany 3-2 Portugal